To Love a Veela
by Kamuela
Summary: A Veela and a Death Eater share a highly volatile relationship. Gabrielle Delacour/Blaise Zabini.


_I'm very excited about this coupling. I have quite a few plot bunnies around, so this may or may not be a one-shot. I'm not quite sure…it all depends on my time and course of ideas. I hope you all enjoy it, and I hope you all start following this couple too – fanfiction needs a bigger array of Gabrielle/Blaise stories. Thanks for reading! Feel free to drop off a review and tell me what you think!_

_Oh, and everything in this story, ie the streets, pictures, photographer… they are all based on real places/people. So look them up, it's quite interesting!_

_-Kamuela_

_Pansy Parkinson: "Even you think she's good looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!"_

* * *

_O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O_

_To Love a Veela_

_O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O_

**_Monday, June 20, 2005_**

Gabrielle Delacour was nervous.

She flipped through Of the Temperaments by Galen before tossing it aside to replace it with the much acclaimed Paracelsus' The Archidoxes of Magic.

The latest test in her grand educational path towards becoming a healer was a cumbersome account of how Renaissance alchemists have influenced the modern-day healers of the wizarding world.

But seriously, who in their right mind would remember all of the four humours and what they stood for? They were so outdated, why did she even have to remember them? Phlegm, black bile, yellow bile, and… what was it? Blood. Now how did that even match? And how did they match up with the four elements of the world? Dycrasia made sense to her, but the idea that the humours affected the personality was all too much. Why would too much phlegm make someone calm while too much yellow bile make them temperamental?

L'école de Guérir, the school that specialized in healing teachings in France, was extremely rigorous. Half of her class had dropped out of the school within their first grading period because of their poor marks. Even though Gabrielle was earning some of the highest marks in her classes, she knew that could change with just one slip of the quill. If she messed up during this next test, her grade could drop drastically.

Gabrielle loved the idea of healing people, but enough was enough! She was exhausted of continually studying, never having a life, always being indoors, never seeing her friends…etc. She didn't have a boyfriend, of course, because she never would have time for him. She hardly ever saw her sister, Bill, and her nieces. She wondered if she'd ever get a chance to see Fleur before she gave birth to their third child.

But it wasn't as if she'd have had enough money to afford the trip. Since the war, travelling by Floo was strictly regulated especially cross-continental journeys. Regulations always ended in one thing: taxes. And we all know who pays the final taxes, the consumers.

Dropping her quill beside her parchment of scribbled notes, Gabrielle shut all of her books and stacked them on each other. She really needed a break. Or something.

She reached for the menu of the wizarding café in Paris and ran her eyes across all of the items. Like she had enough money for any of this. Of course, she didn't have a job, see above for the reason.

"Excuse me," a voice came in perfect French.

Gabrielle looked up and smiled at a waiter. "Yes?"

"One firewhiskey, compliments of the gentleman in the back."

And with that, the waiter placed the goblet on the table in front of Gabrielle and turned to walk away.

Gabrielle turned in her seat to look at the "gentleman in the back," thinking that there would be an array of many suitors staring at her. Instead, she saw that the café was empty save one seat. He was facing her, but not looking, busily eating from a large bowl of coq au Chambertin. She thought he was handsome; not overtly, but enough to please her. He looked predominantly Italian with the stereotypical profile of a pointed nose in addition to a heavy brow and chin line. However, although he had dark hair and skin, his eyes were startlingly blue.

Never being the most demure, she stood up with the goblet in one hand, leaving her books (like anyone would want to steal them). She walked towards the man, noticing that his eyes rose immediately when she began to swing her hips with each step. She placed the drink on the table beside him, saying, "I refuse to drink this without the person who bought it for me."

"May I ask your name?" he asked, his French obviously covering up a heavy British accent.

Batting her eyelashes she said, "Gabrielle Delacour."

He offered a smile that revealed some bright white teeth. Particularly bright for being a Brit, she thought idly. When he didn't say anything for a second, she let her eyes roam over his appearance, scrutinizing him closer. He was dressed well, in a fitted dark blue t-shirt with some band on it that she didn't know with jeans. The thing that caught her eye, however, was the fact that he had a black sweatband on his left wrist.

Immediately when her eyes fell on his arm, the man intervened, sounding a bit rushed.

"Blaise Zabini," he said, offering his right hand to the witch. Gabrielle took it and smiled.

"Pleased to meet you, Blaise," she said. In English, she added, "And may I add I appreciate the drink."

The man offered a suave smile. "You speak English? My French is quite rusty… I'm only here on business, you know."

"I bet my English is twice as 'rusty' as your French. Whereas yours is wonderful, I have a horrible accent," Gabrielle laughed at herself.

"It sounds fine to me," Blaise said, adding, "Well, you deserved the drink; you looked a bit weary with all of those books piled up. Or at least I would be if I were you."

Gabrielle offered a laugh. "Yes, well, I am rather frazzled, but I am trying to contain my nerves. I still have two days before the test and I might have a few minutes to myself. And do speak to me in French; your accent is très magnifique."

He smiled, nearly enjoying her bossing him around. Of course, he switched languages.

"And your boyfriend? Do you have any time for him?"

It was so blunt she nearly laughed. But she didn't.

"I traded him long ago for those books," she nodded her head in the direction of her vacated table, where twelve books lay stacked on top of each other.

"Such a pity," he replied, his eyes twinkling in a way that looked as though he meant the exact opposite. She smiled. "So, Gabrielle Delacour, your name sounds quite familiar. But I couldn't have met you before without remembering it."

"Well, I judge by your age and accent you attended Hogwarts while my sister, Fleur Delacour, was in the Triwizard Tournament. That was…way back in 1994." Gabrielle sat down in the chair across from her new acquaintance, placing her purse in her lap.

"Oh, yes, I do recognize the name. Hmm, Fleur Delacour. Can't say you look much like her, by my memory." Blaise suddenly scrutinized Gabrielle's face. She had blonde hair like her sister, but after that all similarities stopped. While Fleur had an hourglass figure, Gabrielle was skinnier, more model-like. While Fleur was glamorous, Gabrielle liked the romantic take on things; gossamer gowns and wavy hair pinned naturally.

The young girl batted her eyelashes at her counterpart coyly. "Much prettier, oui?"

"Oui," he nodded, his eyes meeting hers.

"So you said you are here on business? What kind of business?" Gabrielle asked when the staring contest seemed more awkward than flirtatious.

"Well…my definition of business is quite dry. My mother just died and I have to take care of her will and my inheritances." His eyes looked cold, not at all mourning.

"Wow…I'm really sorry."

"Don't be," Blaise said, "she really wasn't the best mother."

"Neither was mon maman, but I still loved her. When she died, I dunno…it was quite sad no matter our differences in life."

"Well, my mum is hardly worth the pity. I hardly think she loved me…I was the last living reminder of one of her many unsuccessful marriages. One of the worst of all of them, actually. She let governesses raise me. I think I saw her a total of ten times in my whole life and she always seemed quite disappointed in me whenever she did come."

Gabrielle could sense how much the subject hurt the young man, so she took a sip of her firewhiskey and changed it easily. "Well, it's always a pleasure to meet someone new. I'm from Languedoc, actually, so I don't know hardly a soul in Paris. All I do here is study and attend lectures."

"But you must know some people from Beauxbatons here, right?" Blaise asked. Gabrielle laughed.

"Oh, are you so sure that Beauxbatons is in France?" she asked. "Madam Maxine would have my head if I gave you any clues as to its locations. So I will leave the subject at this: most of the people that have graduated from Beauxbatons live in southern France. Paris is so big, though, even if a handful lived here, I hardly would know where to find them."

"Marseilles? Nice?"

"Perhaps…" Gabrielle supplied. "Now, before I spill it completely, please let's change the subject. How about you tell me where you live and what you do there."

Blaise chuckled. "Alright then. Growing up I lived in Cheshire in Torkington Manor, which Mum inherited from her first husband Lord something-or-another Torkington, with my governess. Now, I'm on an indefinite vacation, living in random locations as I see fit."

Gabrielle smiled, "It must be nice."

"One does miss having a place to call 'home,' eventually."

Checking the clock on the far wall, Gabrielle blanched. "Is it really already 3 o'clock? I really must be going. I have some things I have to get done. It was nice to meet you, Blaise."

The man stood up. "Would you be willing to meet me here tomorrow, same place? I would like to eat lunch with you."

"Is it a date?" Gabrielle asked shrewdly.

"If you would like that."

"I would."

Gabrielle hurriedly gathered her things and left, but not without sneaking a few more glances at her new acquaintance.

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

There were few things that Gabrielle Delacour was embarrassed about. There were many things that she did that others might feel were wrong but she felt differently about. For example, her parents wanted her to be a pigeon; a wife of a wealthy French business man who did nothing but send her kids away to boarding school and hold social gatherings. Gabrielle wanted to be a healer and she sacrificed her love life and standings with her parents to follow this dream. She was glad she did it.

But that day, as Gabrielle opened the door to the photo studio, she felt it was quite the wrong thing to do. Nude photography had never really bothered her in the past, but now that it was going to be her posing nude, she thought differently about the whole idea. It wasn't porn, Merlin's beard, but it was suggestive. And she wasn't sure that she wanted just anyone in the world to see her body.

Oh boy, she needed money desperately.

Gabrielle tugged her purse over her shoulder a bit further as she walked to the front desk. The photographer, Sølve Sundsbø, was already famous in the muggle world and was branching out into wizarding photography. When he saw Gabrielle in one of the cafés, he approached her, telling her he was in awe with her beauty. He was struck with an idea, the modernized version of Marianne, the symbol of the French Republic. With her starring as Marianne.

The money was good.

The one problem: she was going to be wearing a gown made of white tulle that showed everything.

"Bonjour. I'm here for the photo shoot. My name is Gabrielle Delacour." The young witch paused nervously. Her mother would have had her neck if she hadn't have died a few years ago.

"Oh, oui! Wow, you are as beautiful as Monsieur Sundsbø suggested," the receptionist said. "Well, follow me."

The set up looked very La Liberté guidant le peuple with the background a canvas charmed with the same scene of Paris' famous buildings. The buildings were smoking, but one lone flag could be seen flying; le drapeau tricolore. What made the painting modern, however, was the dark mark above the city of Paris.

Gabrielle saw Sølve walking to her. "Bonjour, my muse," he said, kissing both her cheeks. "Do you like the set?" She nodded. "Well, let us get you in costume and begin this extraordinary event."

She was dressed – or lack there of – while the stylist was charming her hair. The tulle draped over one shoulder fell short of covering her breasts and reached to the ground in a puddle of illusion. It was completely sheer and was charmed to shimmer. They let her hair long, making the waves turn into curls, and pinned her hair about her face romantically. Her face was left pale but her lips were painted red and her eyelashes were lengthened. She looked quite terrified, but beautiful, her Veela charms seeping through ethereally.

"Gorgeous! Now just stand so, with the wand like this," Sølve said, flicking his own wand to let the wind begin so her hair was tousled across her face. "Put this hand here, that hand there, pout your lips a bit more…"

**_Wednesday, June 29, 2005_**

"I see you did not bring your books to study from, I'm quite proud," Blaise noted as his date entered the café to join him. Gabrielle was looking quite summery in a yellow tiered sundress, which starkly countered Blaise's black ensemble. Gabrielle noticed that still, a black wristband covered most of his left forearm.

"I wanted to enjoy your company. Why, were you angry with me when I brought them last time?" she asked, feigning a hurt expression.

"Of course not, but it is a nice surprise to have your undivided attention," he replied. It was their fifth date all in the span of nine days. Gabrielle was beginning to feel quite attached to her and Blaise's luncheons.

"Well, I just took the test yesterday, so I don't need to worry about it anymore. Thank goodness."

"Was it as hard as you thought, dear?"

She liked it when he referred to her as 'dear.' Smiling, she replied, "Actually, no. I studied so much that I could practically ask and answer all of the questions by memory."

He grinned. "If only I had your tenacity, I would have done better at Hogwarts." He paused. "I already ordered. I hope you enjoy Steak au Poivre?"

"It's my favourite," Gabrielle said. She settled in and looked at the glass of champagne at her place. "Champagne? Don't you think you're going a bit overboard?"

"After seeing all that my mother has left to me, I believe I could be extravagant for the rest of my life quite easily," Blaise said. In any other case, it would have sounded boastful, but not in his. His words did not meet his eyes, which looked quite disgusted.

"So, Monsieur Déficit, what do you plan to do with all of this inheritance?"

Making himself sound as nasal as he could, Blaise replied, "Spend it myself! Why if the commons need food, qu'ils mangent de la brioche." Let them eat cake. Gabrielle laughed. "Really? I'm not sure. It's a lot of money, most of which I hardly need."

It was ironic, Gabrielle thought, that he had so much money to waste and she was posing erotically for money since she lacked so much.

"That's quite noble of you, Blaise."

"Why thank you, though I hardly deserve such praise. You're probably the first to ever say such nice things about me."

"Why?"

His face contorted. "I…I don't have the best…reputation, where I come from."

When the food came, they ate and were mostly silent throughout. The food was delicious. However, there was a gnawing feeling in the pit of Gabrielle's stomach. Besides the fact that he was handsome – for she had seen other handsome men in her life – she knew she was attracted to Blaise Zabini because of his being foreign and slightly mysterious. His words, on the other hand, scared her. His 'reputation' was not the best? Her mind was wandering, trying to capture the truth but not coming close to it. When she had finished all she could of the large portion of food she had been given, she leaned back in her chair.

"I feel deliciously full; thank you for the food, it was exquisite." She smiled at him as he drained his champagne.

"Oh, think nothing of it. The company is what has made this lunching superb," he replied, eyes twinkling. Gabrielle liked how her stomach squirmed with butterflies at that sentence.

"I know I should go back to my studies, but I don't want this lunch to end," Gabrielle confessed as the server took away the plates. Blaise took his wallet out of his pocket and left money on the table.

"Come, why don't we walk about Butte aux Cailles?" Blaise asked. Gabrielle smiled.

"Of course."

Butte aux Cailles was a quaint street in Paris, open to the wizarding world. To the wizards, it held some of the best shops. There were apothecaries, potion stores, robe stores, animal stores, an owl post, a wand store, a wizarding bank, and even a branch of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. To muggles, it was quite out-of-place with several quiet, verdant streets lined with art-nouveau style houses. No muggles went down the street, so no one had to think twice about being discreet. Besides, only wizards could see the true shops and stores.

The couple took off down the street, looking at all of the interesting people walking. Blaise took Gabrielle's hand in his, to which she was quite happy about. They were an odd couple though; her pale skin and bright dress contrasted with his darker appearance.

"Would you mind if we stopped by Madame Martin? I was hoping to pick up a book," Gabrielle said. Blaise laughed.

"Can I not keep you away from studying, my dear?"

Blushing, Gabrielle said, "If you don't want--"

"I'm kidding," Blaise interrupted, "It's one of your many endearments. Let's go. Maybe you could find me a book for my own pleasure reading?"

They headed to the store that was located in a bright teal house in the centre of Butte aux Cailles. Blaise opened the door for Gabrielle, who entered the store. It smelled of burning cinnamon incense and had some charming music playing in the background. The house was packed with shelves of books. In one corner were Divination, Arithmancy, and Astronomy books, in the other corner were History and Ancient Runes books, in the centre were Potions and Charms books, and on the far wall were Healing books. There was even a shelf near the cash register of pop culture books.

The store only held a few other wizards. Two elder looking men were looking at the current magazines beneath the cash register, both of whom had receding hairlines, hooked noses, and dark robes. There was a little French girl crying to her mum about buying her books for Beauxbatons in the back of the store and a little boy who was by himself reading a volume of Ancient Runes: Cursed Castles. The ghost of Madam Martin – the so-called 'Witch of Marley' – was floating about with a cheery smile on her face, rechecking the organization of her spotless store.

Gabrielle carried herself to the Healing books section proudly and read the titles of the books. She found the one she was looking for – 1001 Façons que la Renaissance A Influencée Guérir – and smiled at Blaise.

"This is it. I'm very excited to read it."

"I can tell. Now what do you suggest I read?" he asked. Gabrielle raised an eyebrow.

"You're serious?" He nodded. "Well, do you like history? Divination? Fiction?"

"Politics," Blaise supplied. Gabrielle laughed.

"You are certainly in the wrong store then. Try Jekyll & Hyde, a few buildings down. It has all of the political things going on now. It's interesting, I suppose, it has some crazy stuff in it, though a bit too callous in my opinion."

"Oh, there is a Jekyll & Hyde here? There is one on Knockturn Alley in London, it's my favourite store."

Gabrielle nodded but paused. Where had she heard of Knockturn Alley before? For some reason nothing was clicking in her mind about this Blaise Zabini character. She should have known something was wrong, but she didn't think twice about it.

"Well, I'm going to buy this and then we can go wherever you want to," Gabrielle said. Blaise nodded and walked up to the magazine shelf. After Gabrielle paid, she joined Blaise. He was looking at one of the more fashion-forward magazines intently. She wondered why until she looked over his shoulder and saw the picture he was staring at.

Of course it was her picture. The one titled "Le Marianne Moderne" with an article about how the aspiring photographer randomly met a muse and was inspired for the photo shoot.

The picture was beautifully done. Gabrielle saw herself standing in the centre of the picture, in front of the well-known Paris backdrop, the wind making her hair fly in her face as she parted her lips into a smile. Her right hand, swinging gracefully at her side, was holding a wand while the back of her left hand traced across her jaw line and into her hair. When she would flip her hair out to the left, the ends of her hair turned into doves that flew in an arch, away. It was quite beautiful, but Gabrielle knew the symbolism would be lost to many of the male readers. The pose was erotic and her nipples were hard, the sheer gossamer hiding nothing. You could see each mark on her body, each freckle…

"S'il vous plaît," Gabrielle sputtered, forgetting to speak English. "Je n'ai pas de beaucoup d'argent et ai eu besoin de lui payer l'école et c'était le seul travail je pourrait trouver et il a payé bien et..."

The bad part wasn't that she was speaking in French; the bad part was that she was completely and utterly hysterical. She didn't want Blaise to think badly of her.

Blaise put the magazine down. "Come with me, Gabrielle, please."

He led her to a recluse bench on the side of the street and sat her down. "It does not matter."

"How can you say that when the whole world will see my body? I am a tramp! Une prostituée. You will not want me; no one will want me. My reputation is ruined." Tears were soaking her cheeks. Her eyes were red.

"No one is perfect," he said quite clearly.

"I had to get the job because my father refuses to pay for my education and I have no money and I can't--"

"It's okay. You're beautiful because you want to make something of yourself and you go to any means necessary. Helping people is your calling, Gabrielle. You're just answering it."

It was then that Blaise leaned forward and caught her lips in his own. The kiss was innocent but it meant the world to Gabrielle. She leaned her head on his chest as he wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

They had been a couple for twenty-one days. He had asked her to be his girlfriend. She had said yes immediately. It had been complete bliss. He met her for lunch when they could and on the weekends they went out dancing at some of the hottest places. She would have thought that as her boyfriend he would be unhappy with how little she was able to see him during the week. However, he wasn't. He had his own life he had to command and was busy as well. It wasn't love yet, but it was a deep attraction.

That night, they sat snuggled up on the couch of her appartement, watching outside the window as the rain came down harshly upon the earth, the lightening flashing and thunder crashing as if Zeus himself were mad at something.

Gabrielle leaned against his shoulder comfortably and she half suspected he had fallen asleep. She batted her eyes sleepily but decided not to fall into the trap. She was too happy to fall asleep and not live. She wanted to drink in the enjoyment, because she understood that this could be short-lived. She had had enough relationships not to fall too much in love without thinking. She was not like Fleur. She was logical. She liked to plan everything out. She was independent. And she'd be damned to let herself get too attached.

He twitched in his sleep, his grip of his right hand in hers tightening for a moment before going slack. She sat up slowly, carefully so as not to wake him and looked at his form.

He was wearing a suit that day, having come from a conference of some sort. She wasn't sure what it was about. He was usually quite mum about his activities. It was odd, all of his secrets, but she didn't pry. She knew everyone had a past and not everyone was as open about their pasts as others. But she would still like to know what was going on in his life, ever more now since they had gone exclusive. But she was never one to pry into someone's life. She knew the truth would get out eventually.

At the sound of a particularly loud crash of thunder, Gabrielle jerked and Blaise's eyes snapped open. She giggled. "Sorry. It was loud."

He grinned and wrapped his arms around her, yawning in her ear. "Are you thirsty?"

"Why, are you?" she asked.

"Maybe a little."

"What would you like to drink?" She knew very well what he would ask for but wanted to tease him a little.

He eyed her, knowing she was playing coy. "Smirnoff."

"A muggle drink?" she gasped knowing very well his purity and ties to Slytherin.

"You're a horrible actress."

Pouting, Gabrielle stood and waltzed to her liquor cabinet to get the desired drink. She peered at him, sitting there. "You look warm, why don't you take off your suit jacket?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" she asked, returning with the glass of vodka. "It's pretty humid tonight."

"I'm fine."

He took the glass and drank, barely blanching at the bitter alcohol.

"I can hardly believe how easily you drink those things," Gabrielle laughed. Blaise shrugged. "Come on, you look so uncomfortable. Take off your jacket."

"Does my complete comfort really mean that much to you?"

"Yes. Please, take off the jacket. I don't want you to be too warm."

He finally took the jacket off, laying it on the side of the sofa. He was wearing a white button down, long sleeved shirt. When he reached for the coffee table to put his drink on it, Gabrielle noticed she could see through the fabric on his left sleeve to see something on his arm. Maybe a tattoo? Two and two clicked together; not for the first time she wondered…

"What's on your left arm?" It wasn't as much a question as she would have hoped it had sounded.

Blaise nearly dropped the glass. He snapped his arm back into his lap and laid it across his chest protectively. "Nothing."

"Bull shit, Blaise. What is it? You always have a wristband on or long-sleeves. What is it?" Gabrielle was beginning to feel afraid. His defiance to answer her was validating her assumption even more than she would have liked to admit.

"Nothing."

Now fear flew through her veins, pulsing with her heart. "Either you tell me right now or leave. I want to know the truth. I always tell you everything about me, but I never hear anything about you besides the fact that your mother died and left you money. So here are your choices: tell me the bloody truth or get out."

He had never noticed besides her beauty how much Veela blood she had in her. But now, as she was getting angry, her eyes were practically ablaze, her mouth was set, and she was positively shaking with rage. She was nearly scary looking.

But of course, Blaise didn't scare easily. Puffing himself to his full height, he narrowed his eyes angrily. How dare she keep questioning him!

"It's nothing. Bloody hell woman! Shut your trap up about stuff you don't understand."

Before she could stop herself, she grabbed the nearest object, a book, and threw it at his head. Had he not had good reflexes and ducked to miss it, it would have hit him square on.

"Get out! Now!"

He left, angrily slamming the door behind him.

It took her ten minutes of mumbling curse words to herself to cool down. She drained the rest of his Smirnoff, which burned horribly. She sat down. In about twenty minutes, she had never felt worse.

Luckily, he had left his suit at her house and she had a reason to hunt him down. If not, she was sure her pride would stop her from leaving her house until he came to apologize. She picked up the jacket, Disapparated to his house, if only to find it was empty.

"Damn it."

But she knew where he would be. In a few minutes, she found him outside the café that they oftentimes frequented. He was seated underneath a lamppost, with rain pouring on his slouching frame. Apparently the café had closed early due to bad weather. He looked so alone.

She sat down beside him. Pulling out a wand, she cast a charm to keep the rain off of them.

She looked at him tentatively. He was positively shaking he was so upset – or was it because he was cold. His eyes were narrowed and his rage was unnerving. Not only did she expect him to hit her, she was afraid that he was going to run off again. She scooted closer to him on the bench and placed her hands in her lap softly.

"I didn't mean to offend you."

Her eyes looked up cautiously, nearly skittering back to her hands when she met his eyes. He took a deep breath, trying to settle his emotions, but failing. He closed his eyes and she mused that perhaps he was counting to ten. When his eyes re-opened, he nodded.

"It's okay. I know you don't understand."

"But I could understand and help…if you told me about what's wrong." She turned a little to face him. Tentatively, she took his hands in hers. "That's what people in relationships do…they help each other. But first you have to trust me."

Blaise didn't meet her gaze. His eyes were glazed over in a far-away expression for a moment, but then he blinked. "There are some things that I would rather leave in the past. I don't want you to know what a horrible person I am…was."

"Oh Blaise," Gabrielle felt her eyes tear up. What could his past be that was so appalling? "I could never think badly of you. I've done my own share of wretched things, but you still like me, right?"

"I hardly think nude modelling comes close to the things I've done."

She knew then that this was psychologically damaging him and that she needed to dig deeper or else she might lose him to guilt. She held his left hand, slowly taking it in her lap. "We are all human, Blaise, you have to remember. No one is perfect. If given enough time, we can learn from our mistakes. But if you don't let me help you, you might not ever be able to forgive yourself."

At first his arm was tense, as if he were anticipating the struggle of when she would try to look at what he was hiding.

"I think I can guess what this is," Gabrielle murmured. While he bit his lip and forced his arm to relax, she unbuttoned the sleeves of the cuff, rolling it up to reveal Blaise Zabini's darkest secret.

The tattoo hardly surprised Gabrielle. By some degree she had expected to see the skull issuing a snake from the mouth on his inner left forearm. It had been her initial reaction to his wearing an armband, though she had not wanted to admit it. The tattoo, of course, could never be removed once branded by the Dark Lord. It had faded slightly and would continue to fade, but it would always be there.

"There." She took a steadying breath. "In my eyes, you are still a good person. You have just made a mistake."

He wouldn't meet her eyes. "My brother and I tortured two of my fellow students after the Dark Lord took control of Hogwarts. It was horrible… I refused to do anything like that after."

She hadn't expected that. She wasn't sure why, but she hadn't thought he had actually done anything during his stint with Voldemort. Perhaps she thought he had been a poser? That would have probably set with her stomach better.

"I visited them at St. Mungo's hospital twice. I couldn't go there anymore, though, it was too hard to see them. I think they were released from the long-term ward a few months ago."

Blaise took a deep breath that trembled in his throat.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you hated me; there are many days when I wake up hating myself." Blaise continued, "My Mum was the one who wanted me to do it. 'Be like your older brother, Blaise. Be like Ermanno and join the war. Join the forces with those that are pure. Follow the Dark Lord.' I didn't know what to do or think, so of course I did what Mum wanted."

Gabrielle bit her lip. She really didn't know what to say so she continued to be silent.

"Ermanno's imprisoned for life at Azkaban; has been since 1997 when he performed the killing curse on Colin Creevey at the final battle." Blaise sighed. "And me? Harry Potter granted me an amnesty. He gave a lot of people amnesties. What was his reasoning? Oh yeah…last minute switch of allegiance. There were more amnesties given to the Malfoys, Theodore Knott, Stan Shunpike, Cain Warrington…"

Finally, he locked eyes with Gabrielle, and she was surprised to see how tired he looked. His eyes were filled with the hurt he undoubtedly felt in his heart.

"I've been on a permanent vacation since. I can't stay in Britain while everyone still recognizes me and my acts. I can't stand it when people stare at the mark. They know what I've done. I can't hold any decent friendships or jobs or even conversations when it's out in the open. Therefore, I've been covering it up and moving around a lot. It makes it easier when not everyone judges me before I can let them actually know me.

"But now that I have you…I've been trying even harder to keep the truth from everyone. I don't want to leave. I want to be with you forever. When I'm with you, it feels like I'm just the same as everyone else. Like I'm not this big mess up. Like I'm a good person for being me. Not a Death Eater. Not an ex-convict. And you…you're such an amazing person. I…I've never felt this way about anyone else. And if this stupid mistake is what keeps us from being together…well, I just don't know what I'll do with myself. Gabby…I…well, sorry isn't good enough, I know, but…could you…?"

Her eyes were shining with tears. Truth hurt, right? Well, his lips were trembling as he said, "Well… now you know. This awful reminder is from when I was younger…before I grew up. You say that everyone makes mistakes. Mine are not only dreadful but they are on constant display." Blaise bit his lip, hardly able to make eye-contact with Gabrielle. "So…d'you hate me now?"

It was such a juvenile thing to say after confessing to such ghastly actions that Gabrielle was taken aback. So what exactly was she supposed to think about the idea that her boyfriend used to be a Death Eater? It scared her of course, to think that at one point in his life he was a horrible person. It scared her to think of those two students that he had helped to torture. When she looked at him, though, she didn't see someone who was inherently bad. She saw his eyes, shining with guilt. Someone that was bad didn't have guilt. Guilt was an emotion felt when one regretted their actions. Besides, his childhood obviously wasn't the best and it was hard to do good when surrounded by bad.

For a moment she did question her heart, but she realized it was still in the relationship. It didn't change the fact that she loved him. It didn't change the fact that he was a good person now. It did change her idea of their 'happily ever after.' It would be harder now that she knew that he had inner demons to fight. And adversaries that probably held grudges towards him. However, instead of thinking of ways to get rid of him, all she thought of was how to overcome this barrier in their relationship. How could she help him see what a good person he has blossomed into? What would her family think when they found out about her boyfriend? What would the world think when they her with him? Honestly, she didn't care.

"Blaise," Gabrielle spoke up finally, her lips dangerously close to his, "I could never hate you."

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O


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